The seal character at the left (a) is the most ancient form of 弃 (qì), which means ‘to discard, abandon’. To the right of it (c) is it’s modern form. It can often be seen in 抛弃 (pāoqì), which has the same meaning. The character depicts a situation that was unfortunately rather common in ancient times (and even in not so ancient times) in China and in some other countries when modern methods for birth control were not available. At the top is the inverted form of 子 (zĭ, son or daughter), indicating a child that is just born, with the head forward, and therefore turned upside down. Below that are two hands. The meaning is as clear as it is gruesome: a child that is being thrown away. Later a fork or shovel was added (b), which became the basis for the traditional character next to it (d).
An interesting legend is connected with this character, because it was the name of the person who became known as the ‘Lord of Millet’, or 后稷 (Hòu Jì), as he is known in China. According to the Wikipedia, there are two versions of the events surrounding his birth. According to one, he was one of the four sons of emperor Ku, who was one of the five sage emperors of Chinese mythology. According to the other, described in some detail on Baike.baidu, he was supernaturally conceived when his mother, while walking in the mountains, found a huge foot print. Greatly amazed by what she had found, she couldn’t resist the temptation to step into the foot print. Just at the moment when her foot sank in the print of the big toe, she felt something stirring inside her, which made her afraid and worried that something bad might have happened. When ten (Chinese) months later she gave birth to a child, and fearing that the child would appear to be a monster (妖), she decided to abandon him. Though she tried three times to leave the child at a spot in the surrounding countryside, each time the child was miraculously saved by animals. At last, when she found it alive and well for the third time, she understood that the king of heaven (上帝 Shàngdì) must have been protecting him, and that the footprint had been his. She decided to take care of the child and bring him up, and gave him the name 弃 (qì).
During his younger years he was fond of working the land and plant and improve crops. He is mostly credited with teaching people to work the land and plant millet, rice, beans, hemp and gourds. It was said that he saved many lives during a famine that lasted seven years just by teaching people these skills. He was made Director of Grains, which position he held during the Yao and Shun periods. It was during that period that he became known as the Lord of Millet (Hou Ji). According to the Wikipedia, however, it was emperor Tang of the Shang dynasty who conferred the title of Hou Ji posthumously on him and ordered rites to be installed to commemorate him. That meant that people would burn incense in his honour and in the hope that his spirit would ensure a bountiful harvest. However that may be, he is mostly known under that name, that we know as the Lord of Millet.
Abandoning newly born children seems a horrible way of solving the problem of overpopulation, but people had few other choices until fairly recent times. When Christian missionaries in the early days of contacts between the European countries and China found that the practice was fairly common in some areas, they sometimes asked the parents to give them the child in order to bring it up by themselves. Sometimes the parents would consent, but not always. One of the missionaries wrote once that the crying of a baby was so heart rending that it could bring a stone to tears.
During my sixteen years of contacts with Chinese students as a teacher in Guangzhou I have found that norms and values are in general not very different from those in the west. What people in western countries consider as cruel and immoral is almost always exactly the same as in China (with the possible exception of the death penalty). It is also good to note that norms change over time. In my own country, the Netherlands, we had pretty cruel customs when it came to, for example, punishing people for things that at present we may not approve of, but would not punish at all, or at least not in a cruel manner. Amsterdam is a city with history, and people have found reasons to establish museums dedicated to all kinds of things. Even to things like sex, and, yes, to torture. Such museums with rather extreme topics are located at spots mostly frequented by tourists. No doubt to make money, but maybe it helps to keep us humble about our past, and not to condemn other cultures without knowing the background.
It’s very likely that you have never seen the character at the top left, or its seal original below that. But most will have seen it in contracted form as a part of some very familiar characters, such as 新 (xīn; new) and 親 (qīn; family), also written 亲 in simplified form. It’s original meaning is quite interesting, and may make it easier to remember these important derived forms.
Do you remember 阝, a radical which I discussed in an earlier post. It appears in hundreds of characters, and when it stands to the left of a phonetic it usually indicates that the character has something to do with walls. However, its original meaning was “earth works”, “mound’, “dam”, etc. This important radical also plays a role in a now obsolete character: 隓, pronounced as duò and shown above in its seal script shape. According to Leon Wieger in his book Chinese Characters, 阝 here stands for a line of fortifications built by the besiegers of a town. At the right-hand side is twice the character 左 (zuǒ), which usually means left, but is here used in another meaning: ‘unconventional’, or ‘against’, and indicates that the actions of the besiegers were directed against the town. It is doubled to indicate that the actions of the besiegers were repeated. So, the complete character means “to attack”, or “to destroy”.
form it still is, like in 隋 (suí), in which the lower 左 was replaced by “meat”. The meaning of the character became “meat cut up”. Later this meaning was not used anymore, and instead, as often happened with characters, it came to represent something else, in this case the name of the Sui dynasty, which ruled the country from 581 to 618. 隋 can also be seen infrequently as a surname.
I always had difficulty distinguishing between characters like 怨, 宛, 碗, 婉, which are all used quite frequently. But with this arrangement I can find them quickly and compare them and refresh my memory. So you’re not studying one character at a time, but several over a space of time. Learning about the meaning of phonetics and radicals can also help.
Pronounced: jìng. At the left-hand side of the modern form 敬 is 苟 (jì), which in this case is derived from 勹 (envelop), 口 (mouth), and the component on top of 勹, which stands for the horns of a goat. The first two should be taken together: a mouth that is enveloped, or restricted, not being able to speak freely. This meaning is emphasized by the horns on top, which were changed into 艹 (grass), and is a plant that goats love to munch, preferable while staring into the distance. Maybe they are having some deep thoughts, maybe about how simple and wonderful life can be if you are a born goat. Sometimes it’s what I also like to do: stare in the distance, munching something, and having some deep thoughts. Usually I’m sitting, though. So there’s at least one difference between me and a goat. Most important is that they are not running around, but standing still. And that is what the meaning is in this character: to stand still. By the way, 苟 has also another pronunciation (gŏu), which has a different origin. See the CCD for details.
危 is used a lot, in words like 危险 （wēi xiǎn, danger). But what is the origin of this character? Looking at the ancient seal character, it is not hard to distinguish the character for “man” (人) on top. The man stands on 厂, which here represents the steep slope of a mountain. Experts do not agree about the form below. According to Baidu.com it represents a part of a bone of a human leg, and the character should be explained as: somebody standing on a high cliff, and with the extended meaning of “high, dangerous”. Leon Wieger, however, who based himself on unspecified Chinese sources, says that it represents the ancient form of 卩 (seal). The extended meaning of that is “authority, rule, just measure”, to name a few. In this case it should be interpreted as “to restrict”. The combined meaning would then be: somebody standing on the edge of a steep cliff and restricting their motions. In other words: dangerous.
nese Characters’, wrote that in its oldest form it looked something like represented here at the right.
Wieger explains, the three circles on top represent a forest, which is placed on top of a declivity, consisting of the well-known 厂, which here stands for ‘slope’, and three horizontal lines which represent levels in the declivity. A later form in the development of the character is represented below it.